Risk Me Page 2

  The mattress couple leaves, making googly eyes at each other over their California king purchase, and Adam hightails it a second later. My sister marches behind the desk and starts arranging and rearranging papers like she’s frantic for a distraction—any distraction.

  “So, you’re earning a little extra credit with the nerdy professor?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  “Shut up, Cohen,” Genevieve hisses, her cheeks so red she looks sunburned. “He’s just a good friend who’s doing me a favor by tutoring me. That’s it.”

  “Right,” I say, drawing the word out in a way that’s irritated her since we were just kids. “C’mon, admit it. If I’d left you two alone, you would’ve been testing out the mattresses.” I laugh as she scowls at me. “I’m kidding, Gen. Honestly, though, he seems like a cool guy.”

  She rolls her eyes at my not-so-subtle hint. “He is. The coolest tutor ever. Trust me, the only thing that gets Adam worked up is physics equations.” She groans. “Speaking of which, I have to get some done before our session later.”

  “Oooh. Your session?” I tease.

  “Grow up, Cohen,” she snaps, and her face is on fire to such an extreme degree that I actually take pity on her.

  “Hey, why don’t you bring your equations out to the front counter. I doubt we’re going to be too slammed on the floor today, and I’ll handle the distributor calls. That guy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm over your homework, and I don’t want to be responsible for that nerd’s death.”

  “Thanks,” she says, smiling a little. “I’m busting my ass to bring up my GPA.”

  “You can do it,” I say. “And, hey, not for nothing, but dating an egghead probably won’t hurt your study skills.”

  “Do you not listen to me? I’m not dating Adam!” she yells as I make my way to the offices in the back, laughing the entire way.

  The phone is ringing when I turn the corner, and I jog over and grab it.

  “Hello, Rodriguez Family Furnishings,” I say.

  “Hello, Cohen Rodriguez,” a soft, sexy voice replies.

  Ah! It’s Maren Walshe, this girl who works at our warehouse site.

  “Hey,” I say, and I feel a smile on my lips despite the hellish morning I had with Kensley.

  I’ve talked to Maren daily for the last year. Sometimes, more than a few times a day. She’s always helpful and polite, but her voice is a little too raspy—a little too sexy to have me totally convinced that she’s all good-girl.

  In my mind, she’s got this rad pin-up vibe going. The whole curves for days, thick, gorgeous hair, silky lingerie that’s meant to be seen a second before it’s piled on the bedroom floor.

  ’Course, I’ve never actually seen her. In reality, she could be six-foot-four and have a mean five o’clock shadow.

  “Are you guys busy in the back today?” she asks.

  How can she make such an innocent question sound like a tease?

  “I’m not sure. I just got here.” I adjust the phone and look around the corner, where I can see Gen, head bent over her books, chewing on a pen.

  “Must be nice to be the bosses’ son and just waltz in whenever you feel like it,” she jokes. “I bet you were out all night, barely able to drag yourself to the showroom today, huh?”

  “What can I say, my life is one big party,” I lie, lowering my voice the way I do whenever I talk to Maren. It’s a habit that gives me a little stab of guilt. I’m supposed to be broken-hearted over my girlfriend dumping me.

  On that note, I pull my iPhone out from where I’d stashed it earlier and check to see if Kensley has called.

  She hasn’t.

  Chapter Two

  Maren

  Pathetic as it is, Cohen’s voice is the sexiest thing going on in my life.

  I really need to call Lenny back, even if he did stand me up on our last date a month back, because the night or two I spent with him was fun. Hot, sexy, uninhibited fun.

  I’m an independent, modern woman, and if I need sex, I should go ahead and get it, no strings attached, I remind myself firmly.

  Then I shake thoughts of one-night stands with dangerously sexy assholes out of my head and wrap myself back in the comfort of work. And Cohen.

  He’s the one sweet, nice, sane person in my world of crazy. He’s like a lifeline to normalcy, a decent, anchored guy who reminds me there’s hope for a better future. A smile curves on my lips when my brain bumps over his name.

  “Well, I appreciate yesterday, party boy. You saved my life scanning those documents at the eleventh hour. I hope I didn’t make you late for any big plans.”

  I bite my lip, sensing that he’s distracted, not really listening to me. He just got in, which sucks. I love my chats with this guy, but I obviously called a little too early, and now I’ll have used up my one call for the day, and it’s going to be a rushed one. Suckity.

  “Nah. Nope.” There’s a long pause before his deep voice grates across the phone lines again. “Not a problem. There’s no problem.”

  The bite of his words lets me know this probably doesn’t have anything to do with the scanning, but we don’t have the kind of relationship where I feel free to pry. Cohen’s my fantasy guy, and fantasy guys don’t have actual problems.

  It gets kind of hard to draw a line in the sand when I can hear he’s stressed, but what we have is light and fun, and it needs to stay that way. So I give him an easy out if he needs it.

  “Listen, you sound swamped. I needed to run some shipment times by you, but I can totally call back later if you want, all right? It really is no problem.”

  I stare at the hideous peach walls of my tiny office and twirl in my chair while I wait for his answer, closing my eyes because I hate looking around.

  The lady who worked here before me was with the company for almost twenty years, and she got a little crazy with the personalized decor. The peach walls are just the beginning; there are also thick, lacy cream curtains on the windows, doilies everywhere, silk plants in dusty baby blues at the window ledges, and prints of kids in floppy clothes, pretending to be grown-ups, cluttering the walls.

  I’ve been here almost a year. I should take some of this down, just to neutralize it back to a business-like work environment. But doing something like that would mean admitting I’m staying here, and I have other plans, bigger plans for my life.

  Eventually, anyway.

  So I just try not to acknowledge the fact that I basically exist in some sappy old lady’s pastel nightmare and focus on the good parts of this job. Like phone calls to sexy-voiced guys I do business with.

  Cohen takes another few seconds to answer me, and, as much as I love his sharp wit and delicious voice, this is getting kind of irritating. If I’m going to waste time with some innocent flirtation, I’m happy to indulge. There’s no sense wasting my time if it’s not even going to be fun.

  “Sorry, Maren. I’m… Can I transfer you to the phone in my office?”

  “Sure.” I pick up a doily with the end of my pen and shake the dust out of it. There’s a lot. Enough that I cough, then sneeze twice.

  Okay, whether I stay here very long or not, I should de-clutter just so I don’t wind up with a respiratory infection.

  When Cohen picks up again, there’s a still quiet on the other end that lets me know he’s somewhere private. “I’m sorry, Maren. My dipshit sister just agreed to stay out on the floor, so I won’t get interrupted again, I swear. You were saying we needed to go over some shipments?”

  I like his business voice. Cohen gives off this very laid-back, sweet vibe when we’re just chatting, but when it’s time to get work done, he’s totally alpha about everything. It’s a damn sexy mix.

  I wonder if he’s like that in other ways. Sweet on the street, alpha in the sheets…

  So inappropriate! I self-lecture.

  I need to get laid immediately. And get back to the conversation at hand.

  “Don’t be too hard on poor Genevieve. She told me she’s having a rough ti
me at school last time I went over shipments with her,” I scold, smiling at his chuckle.

  “She whined to you, too? Maybe if she actually did some of her work and paid attention in lecture, she’d pass something.”

  I kick my pinchy heels off my feet and wiggle my toes to get the blood flowing. “Hey, we can’t all be dean’s list every semester like you were. Your dad never fails to mention it.” I love how the Rodriguezes give each other shit all the time, but they’re also fiercely loyal and proud of each other.

  Even Cohen and Genevieve, who always seem to be at each other’s throats.

  It’s the kind of family dynamic that’s missing from my life in a huge way, and I’ll be the first to admit it makes me a little jealous when I see how loyal and normal the Rodriguezes are. I’d kill to be part of a family like that.

  “My sister’s a flake who isn’t living up to her potential,” Cohen says in this know-it-all voice I bet Gen hates.

  Me? I have to admit I kind of love his whole “take-charge” vibe.

  “Gen’s a hardworking woman, trying to juggle it all. Trust me, it’s not easy to do.” My voice is so light, even I’m tricked into thinking I’m just laughing things off.

  The sad truth is, my own life is incredibly heavy right now. So much so I sometimes feel like a swimmer being dragged into a powerful undertow.

  “If you’re trying to use yourself as an example of how hard it is to juggle everything, I gotta say, you make a pretty unconvincing argument. Maren, you’re seriously the most pulled-together person I’ve ever met.”

  “Ah, but you’ve never actually met me,” I remind him, getting all tingly and warm from his compliments, even though he’s way off base. “I could be a crazy mess in real life, and you’d have no clue.”

  Ugh. What’s crazy is how much of a mess I really am.

  “Oh, I seriously doubt that,” he says, his voice so sure I get tricked into believing him for a second. “I wish Gen was half as responsible and focused as you are.”

  “You give me way too much credit,” I say quietly. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  He pauses. “So tell me the truth— Is there really a crazy side you’re hiding from me?”

  For a second the air in the room feels too thin, and I knock over a few dusty knickknacks, attempting to push open my tiny window so I can breathe normally.

  “I think you’d be surprised,” I finally gasp. Not my most original line…

  “Really?” His voice has this sexy edge, like a growl. “So what’s your secret?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Geez, I’m full of crappy clichés today, but Cohen doesn’t seem to mind.

  “All right, let me try to guess,” he says with a laugh. “Badass crime fighting heroine in a tight leather getup?”

  “Your comic geek is showing,” I giggle as I close my eyes and sink into his fantasy. I like the idea of ass-kicking Maren. I like it a lot.

  “Okay. Maybe you’re a respectable business woman by day and the bassist in a punk band by night.”

  “My music teacher didn’t even trust me with a tambourine,” I confess.

  “Maybe…” He lets out a contemplative hmm, and the sound of it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up in excitement. It’s so similar to the sound I’d imagine him making to show extreme satisfaction. “Maybe you’re just a garden variety thrill seeker? Spray painting the city? Streaking through baseball stadiums? Climbing water towers and bungee jumping back down?”

  “Now I feel like I have to live up to your crazy imagination.” I sigh.

  “Really?” There’s an eager edge to his voice that signals we should maybe pull back before we tumble over the line. I’ve never asked, but Gen has hinted Cohen’s in a serious relationship, and I don’t want to flirt if that’s the case. “Well, if you get that leather getup, let me know, and I’ll make sure I’m in need of some saving.”

  The idea of me saving anyone, but especially tough, smart Cohen, is laughable. I can’t even save myself.

  “I was going to start easy and maybe just climb a water tower. Though I’d probably skip bungee jumping back down.”

  “You’re crushing my fantasies of you as a badass,” he says, and the fact that I can hear his smile makes me panic.

  Cohen—the sweet, smart, take-charge man who is unfailingly kind and stand-up—is the one person who makes me believe not everyone is a total asshole. And I would never risk losing that.

  If we ever met and he wasn’t…perfect—and who is?—I’d lose the last bit of hope that the good guys are out there, and I’d eventually find mine. So I have to draw a line in the sand.

  Cohen Rodriguez isn’t just my fantasy— He’s my hope. And hope is all I have going for me.

  “The only thing I’m feeling very badass about right now is fixing the order that’s about to screw us up big time.”

  My voice snaps back into work mode, and his next words are clipped and direct, all business.

  “Let me know what to do.”

  “I emailed you a spreadsheet. Can you check the next two weeks against your sales’ dates? Last month we got our wires crossed, and I had fountains coming in when you guys were having your rug sale. I know how crazy that must have been, and I don’t want anything like that happening again.”

  I hold my breath and bite back the words that threaten to spill out.

  Words like, Help me, Cohen. If it wasn’t for your voice some days, I know I’d sink under the pressure of it all and drown.

  Words like, I imagine running away with you, and I’ve never even seen your face. Because, even though we’ve never met, it’s like I know you better than I know anyone else. And I’ll never say that out loud, because it makes me sound like a lunatic. Which I clearly am, considering I sometimes actually believe anyone could be as amazing in real life as you are in my head.

  I refuse to get disappointed by my own idiotic imagination.

  His chuckle, low and deliciously rough, breaks through my tension. My entire body relaxes. Cohen, awesome Cohen, just lets it go like he always does. He’s constantly ready to make me smile, and that’s more than I can say for the handful of guys I’ve been on a merry-go-round of dates with this past year.

  “It was pretty crazy, but we actually wound up making a great profit on those fountains. I think we did better with them than with the rugs, so, you know, as usual, even when you make a mistake you’re brilliant.”

  I feel a hot flush spread over my chest and neck, and I unbutton the top of my crisp, professional white dress shirt, which is feeling very constricting all of a sudden.

  No one compliments like Cohen Rodriguez. No one.

  “You’re just trying to butter me up, because you know damn well it was still a mess-up, and I hate making them. I’m afraid I’ll lose my spot as your dad’s favorite shipping coordinator.”

  If my voice sounds a little high and breathy, I don’t think he notices. I can hear him tapping on the keyboard, and I imagine him squinting at the screen.

  With gorgeous blue eyes, framed by eyebrows that are always pressed a little low. I also imagine that he has shiny brown hair and a strong jawline.

  That’s what I daydream he looks like… But he could be a troll with a wart on his nose and a constant lip-licking habit for all I know. Our relationship is strictly phone-only.

  “No worries there. You have my dad wrapped around your little finger. I’ve only ever seen him act the way he acts with you when he’s with my sisters. He actually says you’re as smart as my sister Lydia—who my parents think is the world’s smartest person just because she’s a lawyer—so, trust me, he loves you.”

  It’s silly, but I feel proud about that. My own dad loves me fiercely, but I feel like he hasn’t noticed me for years, no matter what I do or how much I achieve. Feeling like I have a place in the Rodriguez family, even a totally unimportant place, is a little lifeline I can grab onto during the hurricane that currently defines my life.

  “Well, I don’
t want to take any chances,” I insist. “Look it all over, Rodriguez, and you tell me if I screwed up.”

  “Everything looks great. I can’t even imagine how you manage to coordinate all of this. You know we know how lucky we are to have you, Maren. My dad would throw a tantrum if you ever left. Priscilla was sweet and all, but she could never pull everything together like you can.”

  How can such simple words pack such a punch? Maybe because Cohen is so honest, I realize he’s saying them because he absolutely means them.

  And that means everything to me.

  Cohen Rodriguez is the world’s best dream guy. Much as I think I’d love to meet him, I realize how much I need him in my life exactly as he is right now.

  “Well, I’m glad to help.”

  Glad to help, loving the compliments, but cursing my own efficiency.

  If I hadn’t done such a thorough job, I’d get a few more minutes on the phone with him to break up this dreary, boring day before my lonely, depressing night.

  “You have no idea what a relief it is to know I have you.”

  My mouth goes dry, and my heart hammers.

  He doesn’t mean it that way, I tell myself. He doesn’t mean “have you” like…like that. He means professionally.

  Head out of the gutter, Maren.

  Before the stretch of silence after his words gets too long and awkward, I rush to fill it in. “Okay. Thank you. Well, we should get back to work, I guess. I hope you have a great day, Cohen.”

  I screw my eyes shut and wish I could fall through the floor and disappear completely. Forever.

  “It already is. It was the minute I heard your voice, Maren,” he says, and the words are so damn solid and good. “I hope your day is great.”

  “One more thing before you go!” I cry before he can hang up. My head spins as soon as the words are out.

  “Anything you need.”

  What do I need? Maybe to meet a real life version of the guy I’m falling for over the phone… Even though the Cohen I think I know is all in my head. Anyway, a girl can dream.

  “We’re getting some work done on the internet and phone lines in the next few days, so email and phone will be up and down. I know we have some big orders coming through, so I thought I’d give you my personal cell.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I realize just how desperate it sounds. “If you want! No worries if not—”